


Sing you to sleep

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Feanorian brother feels, Gen, Sad Maglor headcanons, Third Kinslaying, tumblr drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 14:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12171081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: Prompt: "Sing to me, please"





	Sing you to sleep

“Please….. brother, please sing to me….”

The voice was thin and cracked, and Maglor opened his mouth, letting out a little sound, as Amrod gripped his hand convulsively, his fingers slippery between.

He pushed back his brother’s hair from his face. “There’s still time-”

“No!” Amrod forced out, quiet but insistent. “I just want… once more… before the darkness…”

Maglor knew what he meant of course. His voice could weave shadows and illusions, visions made of light in the minds of those listening. Could cause horrors to show themselves, or could block out the cruelty of the world for a time, unravelling a sound-wrought world of wonders.

It was something he’d done before, where he could. For his dying soldiers, those close to him during their many wars. For some of his brothers, who in their last moments knew they would never see such brightness in the void that they had doomed themselves to.

(Not for their father though. He had died with his eyes open, screaming his defiance, grasping at the world and the destiny he was losing even as it slipped away. Speaking the words of the Oath to them, even as they had repeated it back, binding it even closer about them willingly on that rocky hillside where the very air tasted of ash.)

He wiped a tear off his cheek determinedly, leaving a smear of blood there - though whose blood, Maglor could not say. But crying was not advantageous for the voice; he had learned this long ago, and many times over.

He nodded, watching Amrod’s pale red lashes flutter. He would not live much longer, Maglor knew. Soon he would join his twin - and the others too - in whatever darkness awaited them.

(Perhaps that was for the best, Maglor caught himself thinking. Perhaps sometimes the darkness was kinder than the light.)

“P-please…”

Maglor nodded again, holding his brother closer in his lap as the waves washed over the corpse-strewn beach. The sea foam was pink with blood, soaking the sand little by little as the tide came in; soon it would reach the point just below the tide-line where Maglor sat now, with Amrod cradled in his arms.

Not much time left, then. Maglor fixed the waves’ rhythm in his mind, letting it be an accompaniment, the mournful cry of the gulls a counterpoint perhaps, a harmonising melody.

He took a deep breath, and began to sing.


End file.
